Selfish, Or Maybe Not
by Marathon Zack 140.6
Summary: Rewrite of the scene from 1x04 when Laurel is waiting on him to get home after shooting. A 'what if' story if Oliver had decided to try to explain to Laurel that he really was changed, he just couldn't act like it. This is based on back in a time when the show wasn't so complicated; if you want to go back to early Season 1 simplicity, you might enjoy this.
1. After The Shooting

**A/N: First Green Arrow/Lauriver story I've written. Mostly written before I watched any of the episode past this point, and I've only seen through 1x05 by the time I posted this. Not based on any scenes that may or may not have occurred in 1x05, and ignores everything in 1x04 after this scene. Based entirely off very early Season 1 characters, hopefully I didn't do too bad a job on it. **

**I just felt like there were a lot of early moments between them, especially if you include the deleted 1x02 scene where Laurel basically asks Oliver over to Netflix and chill, many of which I feel like could have gone differently if other people/things hadn't interrupted, and Oliver had stepped up and acted like the caring man he had become on the island. So this is him finally stepping up.**

**Disclaimer: Beginning dialogue and scene is from 1x04, all characters belong to not me, no $$$, etc.**

* * *

Oliver walked into the Queen mansion, still feeling the fatigue of both the fight and Dig's rejection. He was seriously looking forward to crashing into his bed, and pushing all of this out of his mind for a few hours. He'd just started up the stairs when a voice put an end to those hopes.

"Where were you?"

Oliver turned around, for once not particularly pleased that she was there. He also briefly wondered how long she'd been there, waiting on him to return.

"What are you doing here?" he asked her, genuinely wondering why she was at his house. While most of their interactions since he'd gotten back hadn't exactly been the best, the last time he'd seen her was when they'd all got kicked out of the new night club, and she'd seemed particularly mad at him then. Although that might have had to do with her belief that she needed to defend her screwing of his best friend.

"I heard about the shooting and wanted to make sure you were okay," she replied, the girl who always cared about how he was, no matter how mad she was at him, showing through.

"You did?" he asked in slight surprise. Even after how (relatively) well she'd taken everything after he'd gotten back, her genuine concern still surprised him.

"Yeah," she replied, nodding her head slightly. "I knocked on the door and I found a family terrified for you. They had no idea where you were," she continued, pushing far more guilt on him than he wanted to deal with at the moment.

"Oh," he groaned softly to himself, trying to subtly bang his head against the post. But she wasn't done yet.

"Are you so self-centered that you don't think that people who care about you will wonder where you are after you got shot at?"

"You're right," he replied, both sincerely agreeing with her (he did care about the people around; he _was_ trying to make the city better, after all, even if he couldn't tell anyone about it), and hoping it would get her off his back until he'd had enough sleep to deal with this.

"I made peace with your selfishness a long time ago," she continued, making his heart tighten more than anything else she'd said had, "but Moira, Thea and Walter, they don't deserve that. They deserve better; someone who doesn't care only about himself."

She turned and started to walk out. Oliver knew he had to say something, to keep her from walking out the door; he couldn't let things stay like they were at the moment.

"Laurel."

Laurel turned back to face him. Oliver forced himself to look her in the eye.

"Thank you for coming."

"I care about the lives of other people, Oliver. Maybe you should try it sometime," she replied, before turning back towards the door, and starting to walk out once more.

As much as he'd hoped he wouldn't have to deal with anything else that night, this clearly wasn't going to be able to be avoided until later. Oliver sighed and said, "Wait."

Laurel stopped, not turning around for several seconds. When she finally did, she found Oliver looking at the floor around her feet, head hung low.

"What?"

It wasn't really a snap, but it certainly wasn't a question, either.

Looking up enough to look at her, but not meeting her eyes, he took a deep breath before saying, "Can—? Do you wan—?" He exhaled, closing his eyes, before opening them back up and actually meeting her eyes this time, trying again. "Would you be willing to come upstairs for just a few minutes?"

She studied him hard for a couple seconds, before nodding ever so slightly. Oliver let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, before nodding his head up the stairs, as he turned and started ascending them.

Laurel briefly wondered why she had agreed, before following him up the stairs.

Unseen by either of them, Thea had watched the latter part of the interaction from the shadows. As Laurel slowly followed him upstairs, she smiled softly. Her brother may have been a major jerk (although, who was she to judge, given how she'd turned out in his absence), and cheated on Laurel with Sara, but he clearly still cared about Laurel, and as much as Laurel tried to pretend she was over him, and mad at him, and everything else, she clearly still cared about Oliver as well. This wasn't a relationship that was going to be repaired quickly, but maybe there was still a chance for them after all.

Laurel followed Oliver down the second floor hall, not having been this far into the house since before he'd died — disappeared — in the yacht crash five years earlier. In fact, it was the only time she'd been in the house except when she'd come to invite him to come over to her place with Rocky Road and all the secrets he wasn't telling her — or anyone, if how his family had no clue where he was after the shooting was any indication. Of course, after his sister had apparently told him he needed to open up to someone, _she_ was the one he'd gone to, so maybe it wasn't such a stretch that if he hadn't opened up to _her_, he hadn't opened up to anyone.

Entering his room, her breath hitched slightly, and she paused in the doorway. Maybe she wasn't ready to do this yet — this room brought back too many memories — good, bad, painful, all in such a flurry that she couldn't separate them.

Oliver apparently sensed her hesitation, as he quickly said, "We can do this some other place, if you'd like."

As he moved towards her, clearly intending on finding another room for them to talk in, she quickly said, "No. It's okay. I'll be okay."

Oliver moved back, sitting down on the edge of his bed, giving her time to enter.

Laurel slowly took a few steps forward, looking around her. His room looked exactly the same as she remembered it. She hesitantly made her way over to his bed, slowly sitting down on the edge, several feet of space between them.

Oliver waited until she looked up at him before beginning.

"You said I should care about other people," he said slowly, his own gaze somewhere around the carpet at her feet. "That I need to stop being so selfish."

He looked back up and met her eyes.

"You're right. And, I know it doesn't look like it, but I am. Trying."

"That would be easier to believe if I could actually see you doing something," replied Laurel, but without the normal bite that would usually accompany that comment. He was at least having a serious conversation with her, and it wasn't the first he'd had since he got back. In fact, if she was willing to admit it, she was pretty sure he'd had more serious conversations with her in the few weeks since he'd gotten back, than he had in the couple years they'd been together.

"Does trying to save you from the people who broke into your apartment count for anything?" Oliver asked softly.

"No, because you were saving yourself as well," replied Laurel, her tone soft but her words a little harsher than she might have made them if she didn't have something to add to it. "But trying to get your sister home from the bar might."

Oliver smiled slightly, knowing that was the best acknowledgement he could expect from Laurel at the moment, and more than he deserved from her.

"When I told you that I made plans when I was on that island, I was serious. And they weren't selfish plans. They're just not plans I can tell anyone about, for their safety. Including you. So I may look selfish, disappearing right after something bad happens, but I'm really not. And I obviously can't expect you to believe me, but it is true. But since I can't ask you to believe me, what can I do for you to show that I'm not selfish any more?"

"Ollie…" sighed Laurel. "It's not me that you need to show that you've changed to. Like I said—"

"You made peace with my selfishness a long time ago," interrupted Oliver with a sigh of his own. "Which is a terrible thing for you to have to have done. But if I'm going to start showing people that I've changed, I have to start with someone."

"Then why not your family?" replied Laurel. "They deserve it far more than I do."

Oliver sighed, and collapsed back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. The bouncing of the bed as he fell back into it shifted them slightly closer together, though neither really noticed it.

"Because I need my family to think I'm a spoiled playboy who only thinks about himself?"

Laurel sighed, turning slightly and bringing one knee up on his bed so that she could face him.

Oliver propped his head up in his hands so that he could look at her. "I did just put — how did you describe it? — 'an outstanding effort into pissing everyone off and keeping my family and friends at arms length'."

Laurel chuckled lightly at this, remembering her own words too clearly. Looking back down at him, she couldn't help herself; she reached out and ran her hand over his arm. He had ditched his coat when he'd walked in, and was in just his dress shirt.

She rubbed his arm for several seconds, before finally saying, "So your excuse for being completely selfish and not caring about anybody besides yourself is that you need everyone to think that you're really like that so that you can go do whatever secret thing it is that you're keeping from me, and everyone?"

"Something like that," replied Oliver, before suddenly grabbing her arm and pulling her down onto the bed next to him. She gave an undignified squeaked, and slapped his arm. "I need everyone to think I'm the same person I was before the island. And that's what I was like before, right? Selfish and never cared about anyone but myself."

If she hadn't believed before that he'd changed, at least some, she certainly did now. The pre-island Oliver never would have been self-aware enough to acknowledge that he was selfish, and only cared about himself. Laurel positioned herself on her side, resting her head in her hand, studying him. She slowly reached out her other hand and lightly brushed the stubble on his chin, feeling it all prickly under her fingertips. All the time she'd been with him, he'd always been clean-shaven, and she found her mind wondering what it would feel like to kiss him with a beard.

"That _was_ the Oliver from before the island," she said slowly, still stroking his face gently, unable to look him in the eyes. "I'm _beginning_ to be convinced that it's not the Oliver who returned, though."

They lapsed into silence, Laurel's hand drifting down to rest on his chest, both their eyes drifting everywhere except to the other's. Finally, Laurel broke the silence again, looking up at his face and waiting until he finally made eye contact with her.

"I'm sorry for saying you were self-centered, and didn't care about anyone but yourself."

Oliver rolled over on to his side to face her, and shook his head. "It's okay. That's exactly what I looked like."

His move had brought them nearly face to face, something Laurel became acutely aware of in the quiet that followed. Oliver apparently recognized it too, as his eyes briefly flitted down to her lips.

She leaned forwards, slowly closing the distance between them. He leaned in as well, their lips brushing softly against each other, sparking feelings in Laurel that she'd long tried to bury.

To her surprise, Oliver pulled back slightly a second later, their breaths still mingling in the air.

"Wha—?" she began, before he cut her off.

"Are you sure about this? I did still —"

Laurel launched herself back on his lips, cutting him off. She really _didn't_ know if she was okay with this, and certainly at that moment didn't want to hear him say that he'd cheated on her with her sister, or whatever else he might have been about to say.

She'd deal with how okay with this she was later — right now, all she wanted was the feel of his lips on hers again.

Five years was way too long.


	2. Next Morning

**A/N: 2nd chapter up; I don't know how much this is going to be continued, so subscribe at your own risk. But I have started a 3rd chapter, that hopefully I'll have up soon.**

* * *

The following morning, as she woke up, Laurel felt a warm body pressing against her side. Looking around her, memories of the previous night flooded through her, making her both smile, and remember that they still had a lot of things to work through before this would really be okay.

She also remembered all of the scars she'd seen on him. She hadn't asked him about them the night before, she didn't want to say anything that might risk either of them bailing out, but as she looked at them in the soft morning light, she gently ran her fingertips over the ones exposed by the sheets covering them, wondering just what that island had done to him.

Their kiss hadn't escalated nearly as quickly as she might have expected, now that she could look back on it. In the moment, of course, she hadn't been thinking anything about the pace, her mind too consumed with simply feeling. But looking back on it, Oliver had taken his time, giving her both plenty of time to pull back, awaken from whatever haze she was in that was letting her allow him to do this with her again, and actually focusing on her, something he hadn't exactly been the best at when they were dating.

Not that it hadn't been good, but like she'd accused him of the night before, he had been just a tad bit self-centered, and she'd simply made peace with it; that part of their relationship included. But last night, he'd actually focused on her first, taking his time. It might have actually been counterproductive to his goal of giving her a chance to stop what they were doing, to realize she wasn't completely okay with it, but she wasn't complaining. She hadn't felt that good in — possibly ever.

Even now, the morning after, waking up in his bed, she certainly didn't regret it. She didn't think it was something that should become a regular thing just yet, they still had a long way to go for that, but she didn't regret it, and she hoped he didn't either.

But after tracing his scars for a while, she forced herself out of his bed, knowing she couldn't let herself be there when he woke up.

~A~

Oliver woke to find his arm resting in an empty spot, but one that was still slightly warm. She couldn't have been gone long. He looked around. There was no sign she'd ever been there, other than the warmth and smell of her that still clung to his sheets. He slipped on some clothes and headed to the kitchen, hungry but not wanting to have to see anyone yet.

He understood why she left, why she couldn't wake up with him, but it still hurt a little. Not nearly as much as sleeping with him again had probably hurt her, he knew, but it still hurt all the same.

So when he walked into the kitchen, and saw the scene before him, he stopped short. Sitting at the kitchen island, drinking a cup of coffee, sat Laurel, wearing his shirt, and seemingly nothing else. She hadn't seemed to notice his presence, her back mostly to him, as she stared out the windows into the backyard.

"Ahem," Oliver coughed, alerting her to his presence, as he moved into the kitchen.

Smiling softly to herself, Laurel casually turned around in her seat to face him, watching as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

Turning back around, Oliver found Laurel watching him. Taking the seat at the island across from her, he said, "Good morning. Sleep well?"

Laurel nodded, adding, "Sorry about not being there when you woke up. I just couldn't do it."

"Its okay. I was honestly surprised to find you were still in the house."

"I really did enjoy last night, Ollie," said Laurel earnestly, not wanting him to think she regretted it, even if she couldn't wake up with him.

They lapsed back into silence for a while, taking occasional sips from their coffee, each in their own thoughts. After a while, Oliver remembered why he'd come down there in the first place.

"Hey, uh, would you like some breakfast?" he asked, standing up. "Because I'm going to make some, and I can make you some as well if you'd like."

Laurel knew what he said sounded slightly self-centered, but she knew he was just saying it that way so she'd know he already wanted something to eat — probably why he was in the kitchen in the first place — and he'd be making something whether she wanted anything or not, so she wouldn't feel bad about asking him to make her something as well. He would already be making himself something whether she took anything or not, and it wouldn't be any bother to make her something as well.

"Thank you, Oliver," she replied.

So Oliver set about making them breakfast, the room lapsing back into a comfortable silence except the sounds of him cooking. A few minutes later he sat back down, pushing a plate of food across the island to her.

As Oliver dug into his own plate, Laurel pushed her own food around her plate for a second. But before Oliver could ask what was wrong, she looked up and said, "Just so we're clear, we are not dating."

Oliver started to open his mouth to say that he never thought they were, when she continued.

"I'm not saying that because I thought that you think we are, I just want to make sure we're on the same page. Last night was great, and I really appreciate _this_" — here she pointed at her plate — "but it's going to take more than this before we're okay again."

Oliver nodded, amazed that she was even considering ever giving him a chance again after everything he'd done.

"Of course."

Laurel reached cross the island, gently taking his hands in hers.

"And Ollie, the first thing that's going to have to go is all the secrets you're keeping from me. I know you're trying to protect me, but last time, secrets ripped my family apart. They got us in this mess to begin with. I'm not saying you can't keep anything from me, but you have to prove to me that you really are opening up to me, and you aren't keeping anything from me that I have a right to know — like sleeping with my sister. Before I can consider making _us_ a thing again, I have to know that I can trust you.

"Can you do that for me? Take up my offer of bringing ice cream over to my place, and tell me at least some of your secrets? Maybe start with the scars; surely those can't put me in danger."

Oliver gently turned his hands over so he could squeeze hers. "I will."

Letting each other's hands go, they returned to their meals, not saying much else. Oliver had just taken their empty plates over to the sink when Thea walked in, only seeing Laurel at first.

"Laurel! What are you doing here so early?" she exclaimed, before noticing what Laurel had on. "Wearing Ollie's shirt."

Then she noticed that her brother was also in the room, and exclaimed excitedly, "Oh!"

"Yeah…" sighed Laurel, glancing back at Oliver, who had turned from the sink at the sound of his sister's voice.

"Hi, sis."

There was an awkward silence for several seconds, before Thea broke it with an awkward, "Well, neither of you has bitten the other's head off, so I suppose that's a good thing…"

"It's fine, Thea," said Laurel, "We're okay. And since I can tell you really want to ask — it was good. Great even."

They lapsed back into silence for a while, this time a little less awkward

"So...is this going to become a thing…?"

Laurel rolled her eyes. Leave it to Oliver's sister to want them together.

"I think it's a little early to tell that," Oliver said quickly. "There's still a few issues we need to work out."

"But a repeat of last night isn't out of the question, as long as we start making some progress," added Laurel, with an internal smirk.

Oliver stared at her in surprise. Laurel merely shrugged, turning back to her coffee.


	3. Ice Cream

**A/N: Slight spoiler for 1x02 Deleted Scene (and I've actually referenced it in both previous chapters); as of when I wrote this, it was pretty easily findable on the YouTubes. If you like Lauriver (which I assume you do if you're here), go watch it, it's a great scene between them (it's the second half of the short clip). **

* * *

About ten o'clock that night, there came a light knock at Laurel's door. Getting up from her couch, where she'd been studying a case she was working on, she walked over to her front door. Peeking through the hole, she opened the door.

"I think you might have mentioned something about coming over with ice cream, and a willingness to reveal some secrets?"

"Rocky road?"

"What else?"

Laurel stepped back to let Oliver enter, before closing the door behind him. "Go ahead and sit down, I'll be in there in a second with spoons," she said as she headed towards her kitchen.

When she returned to the living room a minute later, she found Oliver sitting on the floor leaning back against the couch, just as he'd done the previous time he'd come over with a peace offering of ice cream. Rolling her eyes, she said, "Get up. You're not sitting on the floor tonight."

Oliver quickly obeyed, sitting on the couch right above where he'd just been sitting on the floor, so she'd have plenty of room between them if she sat on the other end of the couch again like she had the previous time. Laurel sat down next to him, less than a foot between them. She handed him a spoon, and they both dug in.

"There was a second part to this deal," Laurel said after a while, as she reached over and got another spoonful of ice cream out of the carton Oliver was holding in his lap.

"And I will," replied Oliver. "What do you want to know?"

"How many scars do you have? It seemed like a lot last night, but I _was_ a bit distracted."

"I haven't actually counted them, but when I got back to the States, the doctor told Moria that scar tissue covers twenty percent of my body. So like you said, there's a lot."

"Can I see them?" asked Laurel tentatively. Sure, she'd seen them under other circumstances the night before, but there was something more personal about asking him to take his shirt off and show her his scars in the middle of her living room.

But Oliver nodded, and began unbuttoning his shirt. Laurel's hands itched to undo them for him, but she held herself back, figuring this wasn't the appropriate time. Instead she took the ice cream carton and set it on the table, along with both their spoons. He soon had his shirt undone, and shrugged it off his shoulders.

Laurel turned and faced him directly, hesitantly reaching out and gently running her fingers over the scars on his chest.

"How did you get all these? I'm not a doctor, but I _have_ seen way too many crime scene photos. You said you were on that island alone, but these look far too clean to have occurred from rocks, and trees, and animals."

"I suppose that will have to be the first secret I stop keeping from you," replied Oliver with a tight smile. "I wasn't actually on the island alone, like I've been telling everyone."

"Why did you say you were?"

"I didn't want to have to talk about what happened on that island," answered Oliver. "The people there tortured me, and that wasn't something I wanted to talk about."

"Why were they torturing you?" Laurel asked in almost a whisper, as her hands drifted to the scars on his arms.

"One group of men wanted to know where another man was," replied Oliver. "So when I declined to tell them what they wanted to know, they thought pain might help me talk."

"Why protect him? Or am I getting into secrets you can't tell me?" asked Laurel. She knew she was pushing him, especially on a topic he'd just said he hadn't wanted to talk about.

"He had saved me," replied Oliver shortly, and Laurel knew that was all he was going to tell her about it.

"Okay," she said softly, accepting his desire to change subjects. "And I truly am sorry for what happened to you there."

"It wasn't your fault," replied Oliver quickly, but Laurel cut him off.

"It doesn't matter. I'm still sorry that it happened to you," she said, before smirking slightly. "You know, me caring about the lives of other people and all that."

Oliver let out a small chuckle, remembering her words from the night before; only this time, they weren't intended to guilt him.

"And I thank you for that. I really do," he said.

Silence returned, as Oliver took his shirt, and slid it back on, both of them settling back into the couch.

"So what else do you want to know?" he asked after a while, breaking the silence they'd settled into.

Laurel thought for a second, before asking, "Were the two gunmen, and whoever that ninja lady was, that broke into my apartment when you were here, really from Martin Somers, or were they actually after you? You have been kidnapped once already since you got back, you just said the people on the island tortured you, and you somehow heard them coming when I didn't, saving my life. Thank you for that again, by the way."

"They were here to kill you, but because of me," replied Oliver softly. "And I'm sorry, but I can't tell you any more. For your safety."

"And I assume you can't tell me why you want your family to think you're still the irresponsible, self-centered, jerk you were before the island."

Oliver shook his head sadly. Laurel nodded, resigned to the fact she was only going to get so much out of him. But she was okay with that, at least for the moment; he'd shared more than he had since he'd returned from the dead. So she decided to address something else that was on her mind.

Taking his hand in hers, she said, "Ollie, I know I bring this up a lot, and often just because I'm pissed at you at that moment for whichever of the numerous reasons I have to be mad at you, but you did cheat on me with my sister. Its not something that's easy to forget.

"And don't apologize again," she said quickly as Oliver opened his mouth, undoubtedly to apologize once more. "You've already apologized, multiple times, and I've clearly forgiven you, or we wouldn't be having this conversation in the first place. But it does make having a relationship with you again a little bit difficult for me. Not that I don't want to; because I do. And after last night, we're clearly both still attracted to each. It's just that it's going to take me some time."

"Of course," replied Oliver, squeezing her hand. "I still can't believe you're giving me a chance at all. I wasn't exactly the best guy _before_ your sister, and then with all that..."

"You're a good guy, Oliver, you really are. I could see it in you when we were together before, and the island really seems to have brought that part of you out; when you're not intentionally pushing people away to protect them."

Oliver didn't say anything in reply, simply rubbing his thumb on the back of her hand, and after a few seconds Laurel leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. Oliver let go of her hand and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close to him, and they just sat there, neither feeling the need to speak.

Eventually though, Laurel had to ask the question she'd been thinking about ever since she'd confirmed for sure that he wasn't willing to tell her everything.

"Ollie...are there any secrets that you're still keeping from me that I really _should _know about; like you cheating on me with my sister?"

"No, Laurel," Oliver replied solemnly, shaking his head. He turned slightly on the couch so that he was facing her, and reached up with the hand that wasn't around her shoulder, gently resting it on her cheek. "I promise you, for what little that's worth, that the only secrets I'm still keeping from you are to protect you. And none of them are bad things, like cheating with Sara was. Trust me on this. Please. I promise I will never do anything like that to you again."

Laurel looked deeply into his eyes for a second, before nodding. If this was ever going to work out for real, she was going to eventually have to trust him again. Might as well start now.

"Okay."

After a few seconds, Oliver dropped his hand that he'd had on her cheek, and she rested her head back on his shoulder, and they went back to the way they'd been.

After a while, Oliver turned his head slightly and lightly kissed the top of her hair; Laurel tipped her head back, so he'd have access to her lips. Oliver obliged, brushing his lips softly against hers.

Laurel could remember years worth of making out with him, but never had he been so tender about it. It had always been intense and passionate, but never so gentle and sweet. They continued lazily kissing, both of them bringing a hand up to the other's cheek, and Oliver moving the hand he'd had around her shoulder to her hair, resting it there.

Eventually, Laurel mumbled against his lips, "We should move this into the other room."

"Are you sure?" asked Oliver, pulling back slightly so that he could look her in the eyes. "I didn't come over here thinking this would happen."

"I know you didn't, Ollie," replied Laurel, rubbing her thumb across his lips. "And I hadn't planned on letting you stay, either. 'A repeat of last night isn't out of the question' didn't mean this soon when I said it this morning. But I want you to stay."

Oliver nodded, dipping back down for another gentle kiss.


	4. Apparently a Thing

**A/N: This does take some individual pieces from 1x04 after the initial scene, but ignores the main plot so that Laurel has no reason to hate Arrow (even though she goes on to tell Oliver in 1x05 that he obviously isn't Arrow because Arrow is trying to make a difference, which sounds an awful lot to me like she still thinks Arrow's a good guy. But whatevs, this show seems to bounce around a lot on what Laurel thinks about Oliver/Arrow. ) But I'm kind of making the assumption that anyone reading this has probably seen at least the first 5 episodes, and therefore none of this is spoilers — if not, then I suppose 'spoiler alert' for episode 4, and next chapter, episode 5.**

**This chapter's a little weak in my opinion, but hopefully the next chapter should be better. **

* * *

_Apparently this _is_ going to be a thing_, Laurel thought to herself the next morning as she rolled onto her side, looking over at her still-sleeping companion. As she lay there watching his chest gently rise and fall as he breathed, she thought back to the night before.

He had practically worshiped her body — soft touches, lips ghosting everywhere. If she'd thought their first night together again had been tender, she didn't even know what to call last night. If she'd ever even considered the possibility of them being together again, she supposed she would have expected it to be much more desperate, passionate, making up for lost time and attempting to show his contrition through action rather than word. But the Oliver that had returned from that island kept surprising her.

She felt him beginning to stir next to her, pulling her from her thoughts, and causing her to stiffen for a moment. But she forced herself to relax, and stay where she was. Not that she exactly had anywhere to run to, it being her apartment and all, but she supposed she could have escaped to the kitchen if she'd really wanted to. But if this was to become even a semi-regular thing, she was going to have to accept waking up together.

Still half asleep, Oliver shifted, his arm brushing up against her side, causing him to startle fully awake. He turned to face her, looking surprised to see her there. Laurel hoped it was because he'd expected her to leave before he'd woken up again, and not because he was surprised that it was _her_.

He jerked away his arm, as if afraid that she wouldn't be happy with him touching her, before saying, "Sorry. Didn't expect you to be there." Then after remembering who's bed they were in, added, "Although this _is_ your bed, so…"

"It's okay, Ollie," Laurel replied, reaching out and taking his hand that he'd pulled away. "I didn't stay yesterday, there was no reason for you to expect anything different from me today."

They lay there a while longer, before Laurel said, "How about breakfast?", and leaned over and kissed him quickly on the lips, before rolling out of bed. She walked across the room to her dressers, grabbing something to wear before heading into her bathroom. Oliver lay there for a few more seconds, before getting up and pulling on his own clothes. As Laurel exited the bathroom, they headed into the kitchen together.

When they had finished eating, Laurel picked up their empty plates and took them over to the sink, saying, "Not to kick you out, but I have work I have to get to, and I'm already late."

"Oh, of course, sorry. I didn't mean to make you late," apologized Oliver hastily. "Leave the dishes, I'll get them for you."

"Oliver Queen, doing dishes?" Laurel joked with a tone of disbelief. "Who would have ever thought. Or are you going to call Raisa over here to clean them for you?"

"Ha, ha."

"And don't worry about making me late, it's fine. I don't have any clients or court appearances today, but I do still need to work some," continued Laurel, as she walked back over to him. "I'm going to go take a shower; I expect clean dishes and no you when I get out."

Risking that she was okay enough with him by now, Oliver smirked, "I could always come help you, and get the dishes after you've left for work."

Laurel slapped him lightly on the arm, rolling her eyes. "I'm pretty sure I'd be even later than I already am if I let you do that."

Then she leaned down and gave him a quick peck on the lips, before saying firmly, "Dishes. And out," before turning and heading towards her room.

Oliver chuckled as he watched her walk away, before getting up and heading over to the sink. A few minutes later, he walked out her front door to find his new bodyguard, Rob, standing in the hallway waiting for him, looking just a _tad_ bit annoyed.

After Digs had tendered his resignation following Oliver's reveal of the Green Arrow to him, Moira had found, literally overnight, a new bodyguard for him; Rob Scott, former SWAT. She had introduced them the previous morning, when Oliver had wandered into the living room not long after Laurel had slipped out of the house; Oliver and Laurel didn't want anyone (except Thea, who already knew) to know that they were trying something again, and her being seen there in the morning wouldn't exactly help with that.

Of course, the first thing Oliver had done after being introduced was give Rob the slip, just so the man would know how out of his depth he really was. But after that Oliver had played nice the rest of the day, until giving Rob the slip again in the evening so he could go visit Laurel alone. Rob had apparently somehow found out where he'd gone, but obviously hadn't been expecting to have to wait all night on Oliver.

"Hi, Rob, good to see you, man!" Oliver greeted him over-enthusiastically, like there was no one he could be happier to see. "How'd you track me down?"

~ Previous Night ~

Moira walked into the living room, where she found Rob standing at attention.

"Where's Oliver?" she asked him.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am, but I don't know. He managed to give me the slip again," replied Rob awkwardly.

"Where does he keep go—?" began Moira to herself, before suddenly being interrupted.

"He's probably over at his not-girlfriend's apartment," said Thea, who happened to be passing through the living room at that moment.

"Why—?" began Moria, before Thea cut her off again.

"Laurel told him if he ever needed someone to talk to, to get ice cream and come over. That's the same reason he was over there when those people broke into her apartment and shot at them. He probably wanted someone to talk to tonight, and didn't want his babysitter tagging along."

~End Flashback~

"And I assume mom readily gave you the address," sighed Oliver, as he walked past Rob. "Well, you're more than welcome to follow me home, but I'm riding my bike back, so its not just left here."

* * *

Laurel arrived at the office much later than she ever had before, and to little surprise, found herself bombarded by Joanna as soon as she made it through the door.

"I thought I was going to have to send out a search party for you," her friend joked as she tried to walk over to her desk. "Where were you?"

Knowing Joanna wouldn't leave her alone and let her get to work until she had at least some answers, Laurel replied, "I slept in late. It's bound to happen at least once, even to me."

"Alone?"

"Of course alone!" exclaimed Laurel, not quite meeting her friend's eyes, and hurrying even more quickly towards her desk.

"You weren't, were you! Who was it? Come on, tell me all about him," implored Joanna. "He must have been good to keep you in bed this late."

"There was no one. It was nothing. Seriously," insisted Laurel, sitting down at her desk, futilely hoping her friend would leave it alone.

When Joanna was silent for a few moments, Laurel thought she might have gotten lucky, and risked a glance up at the other girl. But Joanna was merely thinking really hard, no doubt about who she might have been sleeping with that she didn't want to tell her about.

"Wait. No. You didn't," Joanna gasped, a thought suddenly hitting her.

Laurel simply glared at the folder she'd grabbed to pretend she was doing something, wishing she could disappear. Or make Joanna disappear. That would be better, that way she would still be able to get some work done.

"Tell me you did _not_ sleep with your cheating ex-boyfriend who killed your sister!"

"I didn't sleep with my cheating ex-boyfriend who killed my sister?" replied Laurel weakly.

"Oh my god," replied Joanna, burying her face in her hand. "_Why_? He _cheated_ on you. With your _sister_!"

"He's changed!" defended Laurel, before mumbling, "And it's not like I'd _planned_ on sleeping with either time…"

"Either time!? You've slept with Oliver twice!?" Joanna was staring at Laurel like she was some new form of alien; or simply out of her mind.

"We're trying to work things out, okay," growled Laurel. "Now if you don't mind, I have work I'd really like to get to."


	5. Arrested

**A/N: Slightly shorter chapter, but I wanted to get something up tonight for everyone following this, and eagerly awaiting a new chapter (at least somewhat looking forward to a new chapter? I'm kidding, I love all of you who have clicked the follow button on my attempt into this fandom; you're great, all 12 of you). **

**As of right now, this is the first of a trio of chapters based on episode 5 that's going to finish up this story (with the possibility of a prequel chapter, as well). So unless something changes, expect 2 more chapters to finish the story, plus hopefully a prequel chapter from Laurel's perspective.**

**A/N 2: While this is more important in the next chapter, partial 1x04 plot references, but in an AU so that Laurel has no reason to dislike the Arrow, or think the Arrow is a killer, while still keeping the fact Arrow was at Iron Heights, in order to utilize the polygraph test from 1x05. Basically, Arrow saved Laurel from an organized prison riot at Iron Heights, but wasn't a case Arrow had given her, and Arrow didn't nearly kill anyone saving her.**

**Now enough of my talking, on with the story.**

* * *

When she saw Moira walking into the CNRI that morning, the last thing Laurel expected was for the older woman to tell her that Oliver wanted her to represent him. She had of course seen that he'd been arrested — it was both all over the news, and her father had called her bragging about it as soon as he could — but the last person she expected Oliver to ask to represent him was her.

Her father had been going back over every inch of security tape anywhere near any of the appearances of 'The Hood', when he spotted Oliver grabbing a duffle bag with a green hood in it in the stairwell around the same time as the shooting had taken place. Which he'd promptly considered enough grounds to go arrest Oliver on.

And while Laurel wasn't happy about her dad arresting her not-quite-boyfriend-again-yet for completely ludicrous charges just because he blamed Oliver for Sara's death, putting herself directly at odds with her father wasn't exactly on her to do list, either. Especially considering how close she and Oliver were again; there _was_ this thing called professionalism, after all. And sleeping with a client wasn't it.

She and Oliver had been trying again for almost a week now. After the first two nights, they hadn't slept together again yet, but Oliver had been over to her house twice with ice cream, she'd gone over to the Queen castle one afternoon after work, and they'd met for supper once (It wasn't a date; just two friends grabbing a bite to eat together. Or so she'd adamantly insisted to Joanna when her friend inevitably found out about it).

Laurel probably would have had Oliver stay the second of the two times he came over (the first time they both agreed that they shouldn't, so this didn't turn into something just physical), but Oliver had received some urgent message, and he'd had to leave. When she'd bluntly asked him if he was going to see another girl, he'd insisted that he wasn't, but couldn't tell her what he _was_ doing in order to protect her, so she'd forced herself to trust that he wasn't lying to her.

~ Flashback ~

Looking at his phone that had just buzzed, Oliver said, "I'm terribly sorry, Laurel, but something's come up that I have to go take care of."

Laurel looked at him, a little disappointed that he was bailing on her, and with a slight sinking feeling of fear that maybe he hadn't changed as much as she'd convinced herself he had. So steeling herself, she asked him, "Oliver, are you going to see another girl? Look me in the eye and tell me the truth."

Oliver turned on the couch to face her directly, and looked her straight in the eyes. "No. I am not going to see another girl. I haven't been with any other girl since I got back, and I promise that I won't cheat on you ever again. That part of me is in the past. But I really do have to go do something important, and to protect you, I can't tell you what it is. I know that sounds suspicious, especially after everything I've done to you, but I promise it's nothing bad."

~ End Flashback ~

But while they hadn't slept together again, Oliver had continued telling her snippets about his time on the island, and they had talked more about Sara, and she had even asked him about the tattoos she had noticed on him when she was looking at his scars, and every other time he had his shirt off. He had noticeably skirted around the issue when he answered how he'd got them, clearly leaving out a few details, but given the amount he'd been tortured, and everything else he had gone through on that island, even if she still didn't, and probably never would know the full extent of it, she couldn't blame him for wanting to keep a few of the more painful memories to himself.

And now he wanted her to represent him against her father.

As soon as Moira told her, she knew it would be a terrible idea to say 'yes'; a terrible idea that she was definitely going to make. She had never been able to say no when it came to Oliver. But that didn't mean she had to let him know that she would do it, or not put up an argument against doing.

So she'd reminded Moira that her father had been the arresting officer, and told her that she didn't think it was a good idea for her to represent someone she had been involved with (never mind was back to being involved with), leading Oliver's mom to believe that she wouldn't do it; before immediately looking up the initial hearing date as soon as Moira had left. But she was definitely going to have some words with Oliver about putting her in this position.

On the day of the hearing, Laurel was slightly late after a previous client of hers had stopped her in the foyer of the courthouse to thank her, but walked into the courtroom just as the plaintiff was trying to refuse Oliver bail. She quickly talked the judge into granting Oliver bail on condition of home confinement and electronic monitoring; something she noticed Oliver pretended to put up a fight about, but could tell he wasn't really opposed to it for some reason.

Once the court was dismissed, and everyone started filing out, Laurel turned on him savagely.

"Oliver! This is a terrible idea! What the hell were you thinking?" she whispered harshly to her now-client, glaring at him.

Oliver grinned at her, and quipped, "I knew you couldn't resist saving my ass." When she simply continued to glare at him, he turned serious and said, "Look, I know, and I'm sorry, but you're the best there is, and if anyone can get your dad off my back, it's you."

She softened slightly at that.


	6. Innocent

**A/N: I don't know if updating old chapters sends out emails, but I fixed where Quentin saw Oliver grabbing the duffle bag in chapter 5, as watching back over episode 3 to make sure my prequel idea will work out, I realized that scene actually came from that episode, not the first episode. So that bit of error has been weakly fixed.**

* * *

Laurel sat back on her couch, thinking back over the polygraph Oliver had taken that afternoon.

He had somehow convinced her that taking a polygraph in front of her dad was a good idea, and at the time it seemed like it might actually work. If her dad saw that Oliver wasn't lying about not being the Arrow, perhaps he would finally drop his vendetta against him. But it hadn't worked, and it had just left her more upset with her father than before.

One question her dad had asked had caught her attention, though; Oliver had denied that he'd ever been to Iron Heights, yet she could easily remember their eighth-grade field trip they'd taken there. But she brushed it off, figuring he'd just forgotten about it or something, since the tester had said that Oliver had passed.

Her father had asked the question because Laurel had worked a case in the past few days that had sent her there, where a highly suspicious prison riot had threatened her life. But then the Arrow had swooped in and helped her and the guy she was trying to prove innocent escape, before disappearing immediately after. Despite the fact the Arrow had saved her life, the Arrow being just out of his grasp once more had only made her father hate the Arrow that much more, and was probably one reason why he'd dug so hard to find some scrap of a lead about the Arrow, and why Oliver was now on house arrest.

Her father had tried to use the polygraph to pin that incident on Oliver, along with making numerous other insinuations, including self-harm, but they'd all fallen through, leaving her dad even surlier and more stubborn than before. Oliver might have asked her to represent him to help him get through to her dad, but she sure wasn't doing a very good job of that so far. And for both that, and her father's behavior in general during the polygraph, she needed to go by and apologize.

Oliver was holding a party at his house that night, a fact he'd spread as far and wide as he possibly could. And while she was inclined to be irritated with him for it, especially given how worried everyone, herself included, was for him, it was actually going to be to her advantage, as no one would question her presence at his house late at night, and in all of the commotion, they could easily escape somewhere to talk.

Walking in, she found him getting a drink from the bartender, and used the excuse of legal council as a cover to get him alone. Not that it was probably actually necessary, as no one paid any attention to Oliver walking a hot chick up to his bedroom (even if she _wasn't_ dressed appropriately for the party, since there was absolutely no way she was going to wear something that matched his inappropriately themed rave).

Once they were safely up in his room, she said, "I wanted to come by and apologize for my father's behavior today during the polygraph."

"You don't have to apologize for him," replied Oliver. "He has a right to feel any way that he wants."

"It wasn't just Sara, Ollie," said Laurel sadly. She supposed she probably should have told him this before now, but now was better than never.

"What do you mean?" asked Oliver, confused. He couldn't think of anything else he'd done to hurt her family.

"After Sara died, my father threw himself into his work. I think that's part of the reason I'm an attorney. He ran to the law and I followed. But my mother couldn't. So she left him. Left us."

Oliver struggled to think of something to say, anything at all, to express how sorry he was about how much he'd torn her family apart, but she interrupted him before he could think of anything.

"Look, I'm not trying to tell you this to make you feel bad or worse," she said earnestly, compassionately. "I just— I really want you to understand him."

Oliver looked at her in amazement, shaking his head in disbelief. He still didn't understand what she could possibly see in him, and probably never would.

"Why don't you hate me?" he said softly. "You should."

"I did. For so long, I did, Ollie. But after you got back, and came to see me…I just couldn't stay away from you, even though I knew I should. Remember when I came to your homecoming party? Tommy didn't invite me. I came to apologize for saying it should have been you instead of Sara. And we were having a moment until you suddenly decided to push me away for some reason."

Oliver started to open his mouth, but Laurel held up a hand to cut him off.

"To protect me, I know. That tampered down my feelings for a while, and I could insult you freely when we ran into each other at the courthouse, but then you showed up at my place that night with ice cream, and I knew I still wasn't over you. I kept trying to make myself hate you, push you away when I wasn't too busy inviting you over to my place, but anytime anything serious happened, I was always going to be right there. Like when I heard about the shooting, and dropped everything I was doing to come over here to make sure you were okay."

"Which I am extremely thankful for," said Oliver solemnly, bringing his hand up to her cheek.

"So am I," whispered Laurel back, before leaning in, and covering his lips with hers.

~A~

Detective Lance was not happy. Not only had he just received a call from his lieutenant telling him that 'The Hood' had been spotted across town, by multiple witnesses, and all charges against Mr. Queen were being dropped, but his lieutenant had also insisted that he immediately remove the ankle monitor from Mr Queen.

So now he was squeezing his way through the partygoers. Unfortunately for him, his night was about to get a whole lot worse.

Following the GPS tracker on his phone, he headed down the hall, Oliver apparently in some bedroom, probably screwing some innocent girl; Quentin had absolutely no qualms about bursting in and interrupting the scum's fun. The more embarrassing this could be for Mr Queen, the better, in his opinion; it was certainly going to be embarrassing on his end, having to admit to the self-centered jerk that he was wrong.

Glancing at his phone one last time to make sure he had the right room, he threw open the door, bursting in. He found Oliver laying on his bed, languidly kissing a girl who looked suspiciously familiar, both of them surprisingly fully clothed. He started to take a step towards them to get on with removing the ankle bracelet, when he did a double take, suddenly realizing that the suspiciously familiar girl was his daughter.

The noise of him throwing open the door had alerted Oliver and Laurel to his presence. They broke apart from their kiss, but remained close, Laurel glaring at her father for interrupting them, and for the yelling she knew was about to come, as soon as the sheer shock of it all disappeared.

"_LAUREL_!"

Before he could continue, she growled out, "Dad. What are you doing here?"

"What are _you_ doing!?" Quentin shot back in return, too many things running through his brain for him to properly (and loudly) express any of them.

Laurel sat up on the foot of the bed, before saying, "I asked first. Now what are you doing here?"

Sensing his daughter was preparing for a fight, Quentin managed to hold his emotions in check temporarily, and answered with minimal bitterness, "My lieutenant just called; an arms dealer across town was just attacked by the vigilante. All charges against Mr Queen are being dropped, and I came up here to find Mr Queen and remove his tracking device."

If Laurel didn't know any better, she would have thought that her dad was sulking. But she did know better, and knew for a fact that he was sulking. His dreams of taking down both Oliver Queen and 'The Hood' at the same time had just shattered around his ears.

"Then please kindly remove the tracking bracelet from my client, so he can get back to his life," said Laurel in her most professional, lawyer tone.

Quentin walked over to the bed and unclipped the ankle bracelet. Turning to Laurel he said, "Seriously?", before giving Oliver one last glare and walking out of the room, muttering something about betrayal.

Laurel sighed. "That could have gone worse, I suppose."


	7. The Truth

The following afternoon, Oliver was standing in his bedroom when there came a light knock at the door, followed by it opening and Laurel walking in. He was surprised to see her again so soon, as when she'd left that morning, she hadn't said anything about coming back by.

"Hey, Laurel. What's up?"

When she didn't say anything for a few seconds, looking much more serious than he'd seen her in a while, he asked, "Is everything okay?"

She motioned slightly with the papers that she was carrying in her hand. "These are your polygraph results. My father asked you if you'd ever been to Iron Heights. It's the prison where the vigilante saved me last week." She paused for a second, before adding, with a pointed look, "It's also where you and I went on our eighth-grade field trip."

Oliver didn't need to be a vigilante to see where this was going.

"When you said that you had never been there, I thought maybe you were just nervous, or that you'd forgotten…. But then I looked at your results…. And there is a slight flutter in your answer to that question. And if you lied on one, you could have lied on others. And you could have easily lied on anything you've told me over the past week." Her voice was cracking, strained as she tried to hold herself together. Everything that she'd convinced herself was true about Oliver was collapsing around her.

Oliver closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, letting it back out slowly. He had really wanted not to have to tell her about the other side of him, how he spent his nights, but she had a very legitimate reason not to ever trust him again if he didn't tell her, and they had been getting so close again. He couldn't lose that, lose _her_ again, even to protect her.

"Laurel…" he began softly, practically begging her to hear him out. "Yes. I lied on the polygraph. I needed your dad to believe I wasn't the Arrow; it's why I had you set it up."

"How can I believe anything you say?" whispered Laurel, shaking her head sadly, heartbroken and having to fight back the tears that were trying to form in the corners of her eyes.

"Because I'm not going to lie to _you_. Not anymore. No more secrets, even to protect you."

Laurel stared at him for several seconds, trying to decide if she should listen to him. He looked dead serious, more serious than she'd ever seen him in her life, but how could she tell anymore? He'd easily beaten a lie detector test, and while there was a reason they were inadmissible in court, only she could have noticed that flutter that gave him away. And only then because she already knew his answer hadn't been true.

Her voice took on a hard edge as she said, "Then tell me the truth. And all of it this time. Because we are _this_ close to being done."

Oliver nodded his head solemnly, before walking around her and shutting his bedroom door, and then turning back to her.

"I _have_ been to Iron Heights, and not just on our eighth-grade field trip. I also lied when I told your father that I didn't steal forty-million dollars from Adam Hunt. I didn't lie about killing Sara, but she's not the only one. And the lie I needed him to believe the most — that I wasn't the man in the picture."

Laurel's voice caught in her throat, the question she wanted to ask, needed to make absolutely sure he was really saying, refusing to come out. But he answered it for her anyway.

"Laurel, I'm the man in the hood. The vigilante who's been 'terrorizing' the city's criminals, who your father wants nothing more than to put behind bars. It's what I do at nights, why I disappeared after the shooting, why you found a family terrified for me. But I can't tell any of them, or all their lives would be in danger."

Laurel stared at him, not saying anything, trying to process everything he'd just told her. Just because she'd suspected it at times, even thought it for sure moments before, hearing him tell her who he really was was still overwhelming, and almost too much to take in at one time.

She had apparently been silent too long though, because she heard Oliver start to say, "I am so—"

She never let him finish getting the word 'sorry' out, crushing her lips against his.

But as she pulled back for air a while later, she remembered something. "But my father let you go because 'The Hood' was seen across town last night while you were at your party. I was _with_ you when he was spotted."

"The outfit is just that; an outfit. Anyone can put on the outfit and be the Green Arrow. I needed the Arrow to be seen across town while I was clearly here, so that no one would realize that I really am the Arrow."

"Your entire arrest was set-up," replied Laurel softly, everything finally clicking into place.

Oliver nodded. "The Arrow shows up days after I return, someone's eventually bound to get suspicious. I get arrested, and then cleared of all charges because the Arrow and I were seen at completely different places at the same time by numerous witnesses, and I don't have to worry about anyone wondering if we could be the same person. I'm sorry about what I put my family through, about what I put _you_ through with the arrest; but it had to be done."

Laurel stepped away from him, turning and looking at the room around her, but not really paying it any attention. She'd come here torn apart, on the very edge of breaking up whatever this thing she had with him was. While he hadn't lied _to_ her during the polygraph, he'd shown that he could lie without anyone telling, and therefore could have been lying about anything he'd said to her since he promised he would be more open with her. She'd made the mistake of trusting him again, and he'd proven that in the end, he had never really changed.

But now that she had confronted him directly about it, he'd surprised her once again and not tried to deny any of it, or hold anything back, even revealing his biggest secret to her. And now that she knew who he really was, she certainly couldn't say that he hadn't changed. The old Oliver wouldn't even occasionally put _her_ in front of himself, and now he was out there putting his life in danger every night to stop the city's worst criminals; criminals that, now that she thought back on it, were suspiciously often the exact same ones she was trying to take down herself at the time. He'd had her back, helping her to get the wins she honestly probably couldn't have won without some heroic intervention encouraging key testimonies.

And while he _had_ cheated on her with Sara, that was the past, and she couldn't hold on to it forever. Oliver's past sins were exactly that, _past _sins, and she eventually had to leave them there and move on to the present. She supposed now was as good a time as any.

"Oliver?"

He looked up at her, their eyes meeting.

"Would you like to go out to dinner with me tonight? A date?"

* * *

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who read this far, hope you enjoyed it. There will be one more chapter that's a prequel from Laurel's perspective, on finding out about the shooting and going over to make sure Oliver was okay; end of episode 3 compliant (based on the timeline I see at the end of episode 3/beginning of episode 4, anyway).**


	8. The Prequel

**A/N: So here's the prequel, how Laurel ended up at the Queen mansion after the shooting. I hope this flows well enough with the rest of the story, since I wrote it after the main story. And thanks again to everyone who's read, liked, followed, and reviewed.**

* * *

She had just agreed to go on a date with Tommy Merlyn, of all people.

She supposed she'd agreed to it because her feelings towards Oliver had been getting too strong again recently — despite the fact that her screwing around with his bff and her current date had finally been said out loud — and this was the perfect way to prove to herself that she was truly done with him.

Tommy had walked her to the sports bar just down the street from the courthouse, which Laurel supposed she shouldn't be too surprised by. Sure, maybe this wasn't what he was actually considering to be their date, and this was just Friday night drinks between friends, but she wouldn't be surprised if this was his idea of a date, either.

They had just sat down at the bar and ordered drinks, when a Local Breaking News suddenly flashed across the tv screens, and the bartender turned up the volume.

There had apparently been a shooting at the Unidac auction. At the very least, several had been injured, possibly worse, and anonymous reports from some inside the building at the time of the shooting were saying that Walter Steele had been the intended target. The Queens had refused to answer any questions as their bodyguard ushered them into their car in the parking garage, and the family had left the premises as their bodyguard had returned to the building to help get everyone else out.

Laurel stared at the screen for a few seconds, which was showing security camera footage from inside the building, including a clip of Oliver covering Thea as he tried to get her to safety, before jumping up out of her seat. Turning to Tommy, she quickly said, "I have to go," before rushing out without waiting for him to reply.

She was thankful they were still near enough the courthouse that she could run back to her car, and she hopped in and started the twenty mile drive from the city out to the Queens' mansion. Them being billionaires, and having probably paid off most of the police department, she knew she wouldn't have to worry about any cops on the route, and made it to the castle in record time. Her best friend/ex being a filthy rich playboy did come in handy from time to time.

Walking up to the front door, she was permitted entrance by the doorman, before almost immediately being engulfed in a hug by Thea as soon as Laurel walked into the foyer.

"Have you seen Oliver?" the younger girl asked, almost panicky.

"No...I came over here to make sure he was okay after I saw the shooting on the news," replied Laurel slowly, beginning to become seriously worried herself. She had assumed he'd been with his family when they left the auction after the shooting. "He's not with you guys?"

Thea shook her head, looking like she was about to burst into tears. Laurel wrapped her arms back around her, gently stroking the younger girl's back. "It's okay, he'll be back," she said softly, reassuringly.

Internally, she was making a list of everything she was going to say to that pathetic excuse of an ex-boyfriend as soon as he finally did show up. It wasn't going to be pretty.

After a while, Thea pulled back, looking up at Laurel. "Thanks," she said quietly.

"Any time. I know way too well what it's like having to deal with Oliver."

Thea gave a watery chuckle, before saying, "Please, come into the living room. I didn't mean to keep you standing out here."

Laurel followed Thea into the living room, where Moira and Walter were sitting on the couch together, looking just as worried as Thea had been.

Before Laurel could say anything, Moira looked up and said, "Laurel, it's good to see you. Oliver disappeared after making sure we were all safe, and we haven't seen him since."

"I'm terribly sorry—" began Laurel, not exactly knowing where she was going with it, before being cut off by Moira.

"Don't apologize, dear; it's not your fault Oliver is the way he is. We all know you always made him a better person. But please, sit down. Would you like anything to drink?"

Laurel declined the drink, but sat down on the couch across from where Moira and Walter were sitting, as Thea sat down next to her on the other end of the couch. This was the first time Laurel had been alone with Oliver's family in a long time, and it was fairly awkward, to say the least. There was a brief smattering of small talk attempted for a while — Laurel asking if the three of them were all okay after the shooting, and Moira asking Laurel how her work was going — but it was mostly awkward silence.

There was too much history, too many unresolved feelings for them to be comfortable around each other, even as they were united in worry about Oliver, until Laurel finally had to excuse herself from the room to wait on Oliver elsewhere.

They had been silent for quite a while when Laurel suddenly blurted out, "I'm sorry Mrs Queen, I don't mean any offense to your family, but this is just too awkward for me. I'll stay and wait on Oliver to return if you'll let me, but I just can't stay in here. I hope you understand."

"Of course, of course," replied Moira, fully understanding how awkward this must be for the younger girl. "And please do stay, the servants will get you anything you like, just ask. Thank you again for coming over."

Laurel stood, giving Thea a brief glance and a quiet, "Sorry," before walking back out into the foyer. Once out there, she let out a sigh of relief, before looking at her watch. She'd managed to survive in there for thirty minutes before finally having to leave, and while she hoped she hadn't been too impolite by leaving, it had just become too much.

She paced the foyer for a while, before finally settling on the stairs. She kept glancing at her watch, knowing it was a bad idea but unable to help herself, wondering just how slowly time could crawl. After a while, Thea walked through on her way to somewhere, apparently the kitchen, as she walked back through a few minutes later, holding two glasses.

As the younger girl passed by the stairs Laurel was sitting on, she held out one of the glasses, which Laurel took gratefully. "Thanks," she said softly.

"You're welcome," replied Thea. "And don't worry about not staying in there, mom knows how awkward this has to be for you. Our family can't have left the best taste in your mouth."

Laurel gave her a small smile, before they both took sips of their drinks.

Swirling the amber liquid around in her glass as Thea walked back into the living room, Laurel took it as a sign of how worried the family was that Thea was openly drinking around her mother, and the older woman either didn't notice or was too worried to care. Eventually finishing off her glass, she handed it to one of the waiters she found in the hallway just off the foyer, before returning to pacing in the shadows.

It had been over an hour since she'd arrived, and Oliver still wasn't back yet. And as hard as she was trying to be mad at him for abandoning his family, leaving them there terrified for his safety, she was too worried herself about his safety to truly be mad at him. Sure, she was definitely going to have some harsh words with him as soon as he did show back up, for leaving his family, for leaving _her_, in this position, but it was far more the concern of someone who cared about him too much, than the anger of someone who hated him. Because try as hard as she might, even now, she couldn't hate him; she still cared about him far too much.

She had just paused her pacing, wondering if she should attempt to go back into the living room, when she heard the front door open. Hidden in the shadows of the hall, she watched as Oliver walked in, and started up the stairs to his bedroom, never making sure his family knew he was back safely. Sure, the doorman would tell them, but that wasn't the point.

Laurel quietly stepped into the foyer, up to the bottom of the stairs.

"Where were you?"


End file.
